


She's Leaving Home

by mchicken



Series: The Beatles Trilogy Plus One [3]
Category: The Streets of San Francisco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 00:59:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16295279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mchicken/pseuds/mchicken





	1. Chapter 1

_"Wednesday Morning, at 5 o'clock as the day begins."*_

Jeannie's room looked like an explosion had gone off. Most of her belongs lay strew across every horizontal surface the space contained. Very little time remained before she needed to load the car for her first semester of college and she was trying desperately to corral the mess into a viable volume for transport.

She labored to sort things into "college" and "home" boxes without much success. Inevitably, each area she emptied contained something that took her mind directly to the land of memories.  _This should be an easy one,_  she thought as she opened the top drawer of her dresser. Dumping the contents on the bed, she quickly began to toss assorted underwear and socks into a cardboard box marked: college.

When she went to shove the empty drawer back into the dresser, Jeannie noticed that an item had caught under the corner of the rose-printed paper lining the drawer. When she yanked up the paper and spied a folded square of fabric, her breath caught in her chest. She hadn't thought about this memento in quite some time. It was almost 4 years to the day that she'd received it from a kind stranger on a night that had proven to be a turning point in her young life.

Jeannie brought the bandana up to her face and rubbed the worn cotton fabric against her skin. She sat down heavily on the bed, knocking a pile of clothes to the floor and let her mind drift back to August 29, 1966 and the tumultuous times that followed. She'd carried the bandana every day for almost six months, finally stashing it in the drawer; threadbare and faded from multiple washings, after she had filled and refilled it with countless tears.

She and Mike, as she now called her dad, had talked all the way home from the concert that night. She never did tell him about the handsome young man who gave her the bandana, but his words had proven to be prophetic. Love was indeed what was needed to conquer the strained situation between them. The revelation had happened just in time; not that the road had been smoothed easily or overnight.

When they got home from the concert, a squad car and an ambulance were in front of their DeHaro Street home. Helen had taken a turn for the worse while they were gone, in what was the beginning of the final leg of her fatal journey. Helen saw the change in them, so in her mind the evening had been a rousing success. She tried to ease Mike and Jeannie's guilt about being absent in her time of need, but father and daughter would always carry it with them. She passed peacefully a few weeks later, knowing that her beloved husband and daughter were finally working toward the close, supportive relationship they'd need to move on without her.

00000

Mike stood in Jeannie's bedroom doorway and caught sight of her holding the bandana to her face, apparently lost in the past. He couldn't image the significance of the fabric scrap. He took a few minutes and just looked at her, marveling at the beautiful, self-possessed young woman that she had become. Finally he cleared his throat, wakening her to the moment at hand.

"You been up all night?" Mike asked Jeannie as he dropped down next to her, sitting on the bed.

"Uh huh" Jeannie replied, leaning up against Mike's shoulder. She looked at the clock. "What are you doing up so early?"

Mike shrugged his shoulders, "Big day."

They sat for a long time, while she continued to finger the tattered cloth.

"How about some coffee, Mike?" She said, finally standing. Jeannie used the kerchief to dab the tears that now clung to her lashes.

"S _he goes downstairs to the kitchen clutching her handkerchief."*_

Mike followed her down the stairs and went outside to get the paper while Jeannie started the coffee.

"Are you going to be ready to leave by ten?" Mike asked as he sat down at the kitchen table and noticed the red cloth.

"Sure, Mike," she said absently as she pour coffee for both of them. She put the percolator back on the stove and joined him at the table once again stroking the precious fabric. They sat in an uneasy silence. There was too much to say before she left, so they said nothing.

"What's with the bandana?" Mike asked, swallowing the uncomfortable lump in his throat, desperate for a safe topic of conversation. The innocent query set off a fresh wave emotion in Jeannie. She wasn't sure she wanted to share the story of her treasured talisman with Mike, and she didn't know why.

She dodged the question instead. "Is Steve coming over before we leave?"

Steve Keller was Mike's new partner. They had been together for several month and she had met him a few time but he seemed to be good for Mike. Jeannie had noticed some of the spark she thought long gone from her father's eyes had returned since Steve had entered the scene. Based on how much Mike talked about him, Jeannie had high hopes that their budding friendship would ease some of the separation pains her dad might have when she left for college.

"He'll be here around 7," Mike replied, "He promised to come over and help load the car before he heads to the office."

That was all the excuse Jeannie needed to escape the kitchen, "Well then I better get a move on," she said, as she quickly got up, refilled her coffee and headed up the stairs to finish packing; her memory filled fabric swatch momentarily forgotten on the kitchen table.

_*She's Leaving Home_ by Lennon/McCartney 1967


	2. Chapter 2

Mike opened up the paper and perused the box scores from the previous evening. He was having a hard time with Jeannie's imminent departure. It seemed like yesterday when she left for the first day of kindergarten. He was so proud of her and knew she was ready to leave the nest, but he wasn't quite ready to let her go. She reminded him more and more of Helen every day, and the prospect of her leaving for school filled him a deep sense of loss. Finishing the paper, he tossed it in the trash and left the kitchen to pack his own overnight bag for the long drive to Arizona.

Now up against the deadline, Jeannie spent the next hour randomly chucking objects into boxes, figuring that anything she missed Mike would mail. She sealed the boxes that were remaining in San Francisco with tape and slid them into the empty closet. She move the other boxes into the hall and filled her green and white flowered suitcase with toiletries, jewelry and a few remaining articles of clothing. She looked around the room, now denuded of belongs. A legal tablet, with a half-finished letter sat on her desk, the only object out of place.

Thinking about her memory-laden night, Jeannie looked around for the bandana, which she had lost sight of in her final flurry of packing and realized she'd left it in the kitchen. She grabbed her coffee cup and trod down the stairs, hoping Mike had vacated. A sigh of relieved escaped when she got to the empty room, rinsed her cup and picked up the wash-worn red cloth. She heard Mike puttering in his room as she climbed the stairs.

_Now or never_ Jeannie thought sitting down at her desk to complete the letter to Mike. Idly stroking the cloth, she put pen to paper, trying to find words that conveyed the depth of her love for her dad. She was just finishing when she heard Steve's knock at the front door. Creasing the letter, she slipped it into an envelope and wrote MIKE in bold letters across the face. The noise in the hall told her that Mike and Steve were carrying the boxes downstairs. After a few minutes, she carefully folded the red bandana and laid it on the bed with the note and looked around, saying a final goodbye to her life that was. As excited as she was for the next chapter, leaving was still difficult _._

_"Silently closing the bedroom door, leaving the note that she hoped would say more"*_ she carried the last box out to the car. Steve put it in and slammed the trunk closed. He gave her a quick hug and well wishes before driving off. Mike locked the front door and got into the driver seat with a terse, "Let's get a move on."

00000

Almost 24 hours later, Mike pulled up in front of the house road weary and emotionally numb. The trip to Arizona had been filled with nervous chatter. Jeannie, cheerful but edgy, talked about everything and nothing for hours on end. Mike listened and commented in all the right places, neither were willing to talk about what they were actually feeling or thinking. Once the car had been emptied and her belonging moved into the dorm, Mike hugged his daughter fiercely. He told how proud he was and how much he loved her, wished her luck and left quickly to avoid being swallowed by emotion; her final "Love you, Daddy," near undoing him. Originally planning to layover, he made the return trip instead, arriving at DeHaro Street before sunrise Thursday morning.

He unlocked the door and entered the now empty house. He went into the kitchen and made coffee. While waiting for the percolator to finish its morning symphony, he went upstairs and dropped his case on the bed and took a quick wake-up shower. Despite the fact that he had the day off, he dressed in his customary shirt, and tie. Before returning to the kitchen, he unconsciously knocked on Jeannie's door. Shaking his head at his conditioned action, he opened the door part way and stood just outside the room, gaping at the deserted space, now generic minus Jeannie's possessions. Opening the door a little further, he caught sight of the red cloth and the envelope with his name on it in the middle of the bed. He retrieved the items, padded downstairs and poured a cup of coffee.

The quiet in the house was like an unwelcome guest in Mike's psyche. He drank his coffee and stared at the letter and bandana for a long time before opening it. Finally, he put on his glassed, tore the envelope and laid it flat on the table in front of him.

_Dear Daddy,_

_I don't even know where to begin. I know we have been tiptoeing around my leaving for the past weeks. I appreciate how hard it has been for you to see me go, particularly in light of losing mom. Thank you for loving me enough to let me follow my dreams and giving me the opportunity to fly away from you._

_You are incredible. Strong when you need to be but also fun and loving and oh so very passionate about the law and the things and people that are important to you. I wish you would show that more, rather than your gruff exterior. Funny thing is, it took a stranger to point out how much you loved me 4 years ago when I only saw my square, old man. Mom really knew what she was doing when she got those concert tickets for us._

Mike paused and used the bandana to wipe the tears that were moistening his eyes and continued to read.

_You asked me about the bandana, well here's the story. When we went to the Beatles' Concert, as you recall, things were not exactly going too well. After you left to break up the fight, I half considered ditching you and finding my friends, but the look in your eyes told me not to leave. Just before the Beatles started to play, a young man (He was really handsome, had long hair and a beard, probably a college guy, that's why I didn't tell you about him) sat down next to me. I was crying about mom and he gave me his red bandana to wipe my eyes. Then he just listened as I ran on about all the things that were going on **In My Life**. After I stopped blubbering, we sat and enjoyed the concert together. When he saw you come down the aisle, he told me something amazing._

_I don't know if you remember what I asked you that night when we got back to the car._

Mike thought back to that night but couldn't recall the question. All he remembered was the feeling of despair and fear at the sight of the ambulance in front of the house. He did recall however that the evening had been a turning point in their relationship.

_He said that_ _**All You Need is Love.** _ _I asked you if you believed that, and you said that you did. We made a decision that night to try to get along for mom and for us. The next couple of months were really, really hard. I carried this bandana with me every day as a reminder of the promise I made to you and as reminder of how much you really loved me. Eventually, as things got better, I put it away somewhere safe and I only found it again this morning._

_I want you to carry this with you, as a reminder of how much I love you. And if you don't mind taking advice from your 18 year old daughter, you need to find someone to listen to you, the way that stranger listened to me. I don't want you to be lonely, dad. First you had mom, and then we had each other after she died, but no matter how strong you are, you need someone to lean on sometimes and I think Steve might just be that person. Even though I don't know him well, I have a feeling that you and he could really be good for each other, despite the difference in your ages._

_Remember Daddy, that no matter how old I get and how far away I go, I'll always love you and I'll always be you little girl._

_All my Love,_

_Jeannie_

_PS I left a casserole in the fridge, you are really going to have to learn to cook at some point, Mike. JS_

Mike sat in silence, weeping openly. How on earth had he managed to raise such an intelligent, insightful human being?

*"She's Leaving Home" by Lennon/McCartney 1967

**A/N: "She's Leaving Home" is the only Beatles' song on which the lads played none of the instruments, being only accompanied by a strings arrangement. The song is loosely based on a true story**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: There are 7 Beatles' references in this last chapter, excluding the final excerpt.**

About 2 months had passed since Jeannie's departure for college. It was tough for Mike, but gradually he adjusted to life without her. They spoke on the phone, but it never really filled the void he felt in his heart. He carried the red bandana with him just as she had asked. It was a token, not unlike his wedding ring, that didn't replace the ones he missed, but reminded him that he loved and was loved in return.

The bit of advice Jeannie had left was also proving to be of value. As the days and weeks wore on, he found that his partnership with Steve was quickly developing into something much deeper and it eased the emptiness Mike felt. Though they we polar opposites in many respects, they both had an underlying passion for life which drew them together. Mike brought wisdom and experience to the table and it blended seamlessly with Steve's enthusiasm and intelligence. He truly cared for this sometimes brash young man and that affection was returned. Mike was amazed at how comfortable and _right_ this relationship felt.

Mike tapped the horn as he pulled up in front of Steve's Union Street apartment. With toast in his mouth, tie and jacket over one arm, Steve exited the apartment. He finished his breakfast, tossed his jacket and tie in the backseat and sat behind the wheel as Mike slid over to the passenger side for their trip to Bryant Street. Steve noticed the broad smile on his partner's face this morning and had an inkling as to the cause.

"Did you talk to Jeannie last night?" Steve asked, pulling away from the curb.

"Sure did. How did you figure that out wise guy?"

"I don't know, maybe that cat that ate the canary grin on your face this morning. I am a detective you know," Steve said with a wink that earned him an affectionate swat on the arm from his older partner.

Steve found he cared more and more about Mike and his daughter every day; almost as though he was part of the family, and that surprised him. Due to Mike's endless stories, he felt he knew Jeannie, even though they had only met a few time. For some reason, Mike and Jeannie's history vaguely reminding him of something, but he couldn't quite get the feeling to coalesce into a conscious thought.

As Mike finished his latest glowing commentary on Jeannie, the car radio crackled to life. "All units, on all frequencies, 406 - officer needs assistance, shots fired, 609 Union Street, 6-0-9 Union Street, cross streets Stockton and Columbus, all units respond code 3."

Mike was reaching for the radio before Steve even looked in his direction and barked out, "That's only a block up across from Washington Square Park."

Steve hit the siren and Mikes replied, "Inspectors 8-1 responding, code 3."

They heard the sound of gunfire, ahead of seeing the cruiser pulled along the curb, when they crossed Stockton. Mike favorite restaurant, Mama's was on the corner of Union and Stockton, so both men knew the area well. Steve swung the LTD hard to the right and slammed on the brakes, skidding sideways and effectively blocking the street, but leaving the driver's side vulnerable to the shooter. He dove below the dash as a bullet shatter the driver side window showering him with glass.

Mike was already out of the door, crouched behind the protective shield of their vehicle and calling for units to block Union on Columbus. Another shot ripped into the car, disabling the radio. He sighed in relief as he heard sirens approaching from all directions.

Steve's heart pounded with a surge of adrenaline as he low crawled across the bench seat joining Mike on the street, sitting with his back to the car.

"You see any movement?" Steve asked Mike.

"Haven't even looked yet." Mike replied as more shots pinged off the far side of the car.

"What do you think, rifle?" Steve asked as he shook bits of glass from his hair and shirt collar.

"Yep, maybe an M16, but with these old ears I can't tell one rifle from another. I'm gonna bet he's got a scope, the way he took out the radio," Mike commented as he went to hand Steve his white handkerchief. "That from the window glass?"

"What?" Steve looked down and saw a tear across the upper left sleeve of his shirt, accompanied by a spreading crimson stain. "Oh, man." He swore and flinched as Mike blotted the blood with his handkerchief in a fatherly gesture. "I guess, I don't know, it's not bad… hey that HURTS…would you stop it?!" Steve answered, snatching the handkerchief from Mike.

"Looks like you might need a few stitches there, buddy boy. But hey, at least you didn't ruin another fancy jacket."

"Uh, Mike I think we have a lot bigger problem than a small cut and ruined sports coats." Steve said as he gingerly tucked the white cloth under his shirt.

The cacophony of shots had momentarily ceased. Mike looked from Steve over towards Washington Square, which fortunately was deserted at the early hour. "We need to figure out where the shooter is."

Several more squad cars screamed onto the scene, one directly behind the LTD. Both sides of the block were now sealed off.

"What do we have Lt. Stone?" a patrolman asked as he duck-walked over to Mike and Steve's position.

"Hell if I know," Mike replied, pointing at the ruined radio, "Whose unit is out front?"

"McCartney and Harrison. Both are ok, but pinned down inside the car. They're actually too close for that rifle to be effective and the shooter doesn't really have an angle on them, but we can't get them out either. They have no idea what set the shooter off, they were just stopping to get some coffee from Mama's when everything went helter skelter _ **.**_ "

Steve had used the distraction of the new arrivals to turn and gradually inch up the side of the car, trying to get a fix on the shooter. His motion garnered a new volley of shots. Mike grabbed Steve's belt and hauled him back down to the pavement.

"You trying to get yourself killed wonder boy?" Mike barked at his young partner.

"NO, SIR." Steve answered sarcastically," I made the shooter, third floor window, 4th house in." he finished with a huff.

Despite the danger of the situation, the patrolman rolled his eyes at the interaction between partners. That was until he saw the rapidly growing stain on Steve's arm. "Um, Lt. Stone, he said pointing toward the now seated Inspector. Mike stared at Steve. The once white handkerchief and upper sleeve of his shirt were now the color of the poppies that grew wild in California. Mike reached in the pocket of his raincoat and paused. Steve raised an eyebrow as Mike tightly tied a worn red bandana around the wound without hesitation, thinking idly of pictures of wounded Civil War soldiers.

00000

Several hours later, Mike sat next to his partner as the doctor applied the last of the 16 stiches it took to close the gash on Steve's arm. The nasty gouge was the result of a bullet, not glass as Mike had first suspected, but ultimately it was not life threatening. Steve had resisted the trip to the emergency room but inevitably surrendered to the power of the Stone glare.

Steve was dozing, adrenaline long gone and blissfully pain free thanks to a shot of lidocaine, his head resting against Mike's arm. The shooter had been apprehended with the aid of tear gas and trained officers. No one knew why Desmond Jones, a Vietnam Vet with no record suddenly decided to shoot up Union Street, but as Mike said, that was someone else's department. While there was significant damage to several police vehicles, no one, save Steve had been hurt in the incident.

The nurse collected Steve's ruined shirt, the handkerchief and bandana and started to place them in the trash bin, but Mike stopped her. "May I have the bandana please?" Mike asked quietly, not wanting to wake Steve. The nurse looked at him quizzically, but put the soiled cloth into a plastic bag and handed it to the Lieutenant. Mike looked at the red cloth, turning the bag over and over. He gazed protectively over at his sleeping partner, wondering what twist of fate had brought this special young man into his life exactly when he needed him.

The stress of the day finally caught up with Mike. He drifted off and for the first time in a long time dreamed of Helen. They were in Golden Gate Park with a 4 year old Jeannie, enjoying a picnic. Mike and Helen sat on a blanket holding hands as Jeannie ran and chased butterflies. Jeannie stopped and peered intently at something in the long grass just short of the wood. "She loves you," Helen said as she released Mike's hand. She smiled contentedly as Mike ran to Jeannie's side. When he turned, Helen was gone.

In the grass, sat a bird with a broken wing. Jeannie looked at her dad with tears in her eyes. She was no longer a little girl, but a teenage. "Its ok sweetheart," he said as he reached for her, but found she was beyond his grasp. A young man walked out of the wood. He had long hair and a beard and kind green eyes. He picked up the bird and wrapped its wing lovingly in a red ribbon, handed it to Jeannie and disappeared into the woods.

The scene shifted to DeHaro Street. A now adult Jeannie sat at the kitchen table with her hair tied up in a red ribbon. On the table sat a cage which housed the bird with the broken wing. Jeannie removed the ribbon from her hair and opened the birdcage. She looked at Mike with a smile and placed the bird in his hands, carefully tying the ribbon on it wing. She kissed him on the cheek and said "All you need is love," and was gone.

Mike walked out the front door. He sat down on the step with the bird nested in his hands. He was startled when Steve sat down next to him. Steve reached out a hand and pulled the red ribbon. "Let it be, Mike," he said as the bird flew off.

00000

"Won't even have much of a scar!" Steve and Mike both startled as Doctor Robert loudly pronounced the completion of his task. The nurse handed Mike Steve's release papers and prescriptions. Mike shoved the plastic bag with the bandana in his pocket. Steve looked at him sideways.

"Later," Mike mouthed as he and Steve, clad in a hospital scrub top and a sling, left the exam room.

"Thanks, Doc," Mike called as he led his partner out to the parking lot.

"What time is Mike? I'm starving." Steve commented as Mike looked at his watch. It was well past four pm.

"I have just the thing," Mike replied sliding behind the wheel of their replacement vehicle.

Mike heard Steve groan as he pulled up in front of Mama's.

"Really, Mike?" Steve said incredulously.

"Come on, Steve, best pizza in the city," Mike said jumping out of the car and opening the passenger door. "Besides, after today, I think we'll have a standing reservation here for a long, long time."

After ordering their early dinner, Mike and Steve sat in silence, too wrung out to even engage in conversation. Someone got up and put a dime in the juke box and the strains of a hauntingly beautiful song filled the restaurant.

" _Blackbird singing in the dead of night_  
Take these broken wings and learn to fly  
All your life  
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_   
_Take these sunken eyes and learn to see_   
_All your life_   
_You were only waiting for this moment to be free._

_Blackbird fly Blackbird fly_   
_Into the light of the dark black night._

_Blackbird fly Blackbird fly_   
_Into the light of the dark black night._

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_   
_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_   
_All your life_   
_You were only waiting for this moment to arise_   
_You were only waiting for this moment to arise_   
_You were only waiting for this moment to arise."*_

A shiver traveled down Mike spine as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the plastic bag with the red bandana. He handed it to a puzzled Steve. "A very wise 18 year old gave this to me. There's a story that goes with it, but for now do me a favor, just keep it safe with you."

*Blackbird - Lennon/McCartney

_**A/N: I am a firm believer that coincidences are signals from the universe. When I began writing this chapter, I chose 609 Union Street out of the blue, because it was a few blocks up from Steve's address. As always, I checked to make sure it was a valid address in the 1970's. Little did I know that Mama's, the restaurant mentioned in the series, was located on the corner of that block of Union Street, although it has a Stockton Street address. I am taking it a sign from above that this final chapter was on the right track.** _

_**An M16 rifle's optimum killing range is about 200-600 meters. By a quirk of physics, it is fairly useless against steel at a range of 10-25 meters (The height of a 3 story building) as the bullets fragment instead of penetrating. It will however penetrate brick, drywall, wood, glass and of course, flesh at that distance.** _


End file.
